Ordinary
by Disdainful Soul
Summary: I am just an ordinary girl, supposedly. No talents. No magic. But I have my family. At night they fill the sky. And sometimes I fly with them.


**Title: **Ordinary  
**Word Count: **1,337  
**Rating: **K  
**Genre: **General  
**Summary: **I am just an ordinary girl, supposedly. No talents. No magic. But I have my family. At night they fill the sky. And sometimes I fly with them.  
**Author's Notes:** This was inspired after reading the Ask Greg website, namely the FAQ section on Elisa and Goliath's relationship, and whether or not they have children.

_"Eventually, way, way down the line, I see Elisa and Goliath addressing the issue of children. All sorts of options are available, except natural procreation between two widely and wildly divergent species. Elisa could never be pregnant with Goliath's child without assistance from science or magic. I've already stated that I don't see them going that way. But I do see them raising a child together. But not without serendipity (and some tragedy) playing a role."_

And thus, this character came to life inside my head, talking to me without provocation. There's a lot more to her than what she presents here, but she felt that not even her name was important (she does have one, though – ask, and you might receive).

* * *

The amazing thing about this place is that just about anyone can vanish into it, become someone else, pretend that they aren't who they really are. Be it for a few hours, days, weeks or forever, a person can vanish into the crowds and become someone else. Just another face in amongst the multitudes. No better, no worse, no more special than the one next to them. 

Even I can do that. Become another face in the crowd. And I'm probably one of Manhattan's worst kept secrets.

And surprisingly, it could have easily been someone else who was chosen to fill the position I'm in now.

The tale of Manhattan's beauty and her beast is infamous now. Although he was not the only one of his kind, it was their story that brought him to the forefront. No one cared that he was the leader of the clan. The romance was what brought the scandal. No one cared about the friendship that had preceded it, the false starts and attempts to ignore the feelings. All they cared about was that she was human... and he was not.

It was obvious that no child could be born to such a union. Two different species could not have a child of their own. It was a simple fact. It was only some time after their own version of a wedding (no legal ties, of course) that they even considered the possibilities available to them.

Adoption. Sperm donor. Simply not raising a child of their own.

He had already sired a child, but he had not raised her. In fact, she was practically fully grown by the time he learned of her existence. This time around, he was insistent that he was going to help raise his child. His child, her child, the Clan's child.

I was the 'lucky' chosen one, although until I was picked, you would not have called me lucky at all. I was born to a drug addicted mother who overdosed when I was two months old. I still have no idea who my biological father is, or was. Everything about my background is unknown; even my complete racial background is not known for certain. I'm mixed, that much is obvious, and people have gleaned that I am mostly a mix of Hispanic, Native American and white. Oh, and don't forget the Asian. It's the kind of mix (in my eyes) that could create someone absolutely stunning, or absolutely hideous. Of course, I ended up neither, just an almost (but not quite) exotic, but otherwise normal seventeen year old girl.

The kind that can easily meld into Manhattan crowds.

He was the one who found me, while on one of his 'patrols'. Hearing the squalls of a baby that did not subside, he investigated, to find a dead woman and a crying baby. She tells me that when she arrived, she found him cradling me in an attempt to calm me down. Apparently it had worked, but when anyone tried to take me away from him, I started bellowing again.

And that, she says, was that. Neither of them would have let anyone else raise me. They did not have to speak any words – I was the one they wanted.

Of course, it took quite a bit of struggling to make it all official, more so than the average adoption. It took quite a bit of pressure in the end from people with a great amount of influence, but it happened. I belonged to her, and thus, belonged to him.

Mother, and father. That was what they were to me now.

And with them came a sister. And uncles and aunts. Godparents and friends. All in all they made up the weirdest family a girl could ever be raised by. But I was never happier. What child would not be happy with an army of people (I use that term loosely, considering the circumstances) ready to love and adore you? I got to hear about things that most people would never, got to experience things that most people would not _believe_.

How could I not be lucky?

Of course, life is never perfect, nor is it easy.

When the children I went to school with learned of my... shall we say 'familial situation', many were fascinated. That is the way of children. It was their parents who were apprehensive about what I would be like. Some even outright stated that the child of monsters could only be one itself.

As time passed, though, things became easier. They saw that I, at least, was ordinary, even if everyone in my family was not. Some were brave enough to pay a visit to my home, high up in the clouds. One or two even met the family who made the sky their home. The fact that my mother behaved like all the other working mothers made it a little easier for them to imagine the rest of them being normal, I think.

And so, despite being as ordinary as all the others, I gained the same level of infamy that my parents did. Many people in the city knew who I was (the paparazzi had learned to not try and make my life public. The hard way), but I was allowed to blend into crowds. Drawn by the stories came the tourists, but they never got to see what they were looking for. Save maybe a few darker shadows up against the night sky.

That very sky is darkening now, the sun only slightly visible. I know that it has not completely set because of the statue that is standing on our balcony. The vicious snarl present on his face is quite deceptive indeed; it belies the gentleness with which he holds my mother, and how he has held me since I was but an infant.

It starts with the sound of something cracking. If you are not listening for it, it can be lost easily in amongst the sound of the winds, and of the life coming from down below. This is a sound I have heard virtually every night for my entire life. To me, it means love, and family.

Then the cracking sound grows louder, and you can see the stone of the statue split, almost as if it is a skin that is being shed. Of course, that is what is happening. Wings unfurl at almost frightening speed, sending pieces of stone in all directions. Joints bend, and limbs extend. Eyes snap open and a mouth bellows a roar that signals that the beast is woken.

And then, just as it does every night, the 'beast' turns, and his face softens into a smile. That smile he reserves for me alone.

Neither of us have to say a thing, as he reaches for me, holding me close. Those large wings extend, and my breath catches for the briefest of seconds as he leaps off the balcony, and away from the safety it provides. Although I am aware of how far down it is, the trust I have in him quashes it easily.

My father would never let me fall.

And now we are flying, soaring, gliding, hanging above Manhattan, and I know that I am indeed the luckiest girl in the world. In the distance, many familiar shapes – so like my father, but so different as well – can be seen. Although I have wished on many occasions to be able to fly on my own, I take comfort in the things that make me, me.

Even if, by being the 'ordinary' one of my huge extended family, I am actually the odd one out. But that does not matter.

So, to conclude all of this: I am just an ordinary girl. No talents. No magic. But I am just as special as everyone else, in my own way.

That is because I have my family. My wonderful, strange, eccentric, fantastic and mostly not-human family.

At night they fill the sky. And sometimes I fly with them.


End file.
